


The Woods Are Lovely, Dark and Deep

by I_am_Best



Series: WOYtober 2016 [1]
Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Angst, Blood, Depersonalization, Experimental Style, Gen, Scary Stories, WOY meets Twin Peaks, WOYtober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8219590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_Best/pseuds/I_am_Best
Summary: A story about Wander. In seven parts.





	1. Fall Festival

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts found [here](http://dontgetusedtoit.tumblr.com/post/149854345058/woy-tober-challenge). I'm a bit behind and have no clue how this is going to go down, but w/e. HALLOWEEN

The orbble popped as they landed, and the sharp, chemical air of Juxtor blew away on cool breezes flavored with spices and woodsmoke. The planet they found themselves on had a sky painted in sunset colors, trees topped with fiery balls of autumnal leaves, and an entire town that seemed completely empty.

Wander hopped off of Sylvia's back and inhaled deeply. "This place smells yummy! I wonder where -- oh!" As he spoke, a person exited one of the houses and made their way across the field the two had landed in. He waved enthusiastically as they approached. They were a little cornhusk person, barely the size of Wander, with a wobbly face drawn onto the dried husk of their head. "Hello! Are y'all having a party of some kind?"

The person stared at him long enough for even Wander to start feeling uncomfortable before nodding minutely and gesturing at the forest just beyond the three of them. Lights floated between the black-trunked trees farther into the forest. They gave off a candle flame flicker, and shadowy figures drifted around them like moths.

The person bustled past Wander and into the trees. Wander and Sylvia watched them until they were gone from sight, but neither made any motion to go in that direction.

"Think that's the sort of party we'd be welcome at?" Sylvia asked quietly.

"I don't see why not," Wander said, though his enthusiasm sounded a little weak even as he followed. After a moment's hesitation, Sylvia did the same.

Wander gasped as they went deeper into the forest and came across signs of life and more people milling about. "Eeeeeeee! It's so cute!"

That was the only warning before he darted away into the rustic festival that had been set up between the trees, leaving Sylvia to trail after him as he squealed over every little thing. "These crafts! These pies! This... this guy! I don't even know if you're a dolly or a child!" Wander said to the small cornhusk doll he picked up from a table. He rubbed it against his cheek, earning a whispery giggle. "Oh, whoops!" He set the cornhusk child back down where he'd found it then was off again.

They explored the festival, ate pies and candies, rolled pumpkins, and drank a variety of ciders. Now that they knew how quiet the townsfolk were, it was easy to enjoy the festival they'd set up and not be creeped out. Even if the townsfolk weren't the most emotive, Wander and Sylvia were chatty enough for them all, especially Wander after his fifth cider.

As night fell the festival lit up in warm shades of orange interspersed with deep, dark pools of shadow. The cornhusk people began to hang red, draping fabric from between the stalls, creating long corridors roofed by a canopy of leaves. What had previously been inviting smells of sweet foods and treats mixed in with the crisp air of autumn became overpowering and settled thickly on the tongue like syrup.

Sylvia found a rough-hewn bench to sit on and nurse a cold brew while Wander, as yet unbothered by the growing heat even in all his fur, continued exploring the now labyrinthine festival. He'd gone left and wound up on her right again with a few more things in hand -- or people, because the little cornhusk children had taken to him like a big (by their standards) orange dog.

"Sylvia! I learned what this is all about! It's a Veil Festival." Wander lowered his voice to what would have been a spooky whisper if it wasn't Wander-after-a-few-drinks talking. "They say y' can speak to the dead tonight if ya find the lantern tree. Scary, right?"

"The dead don't scare me."

"Me neither, so long as I'm with you!" Wander chirped as he wrapped his arms around Sylvia. Then, to completely undermine his statement, he bounced off again, shedding children like scales. "I'm gonna go see if any old friends decide to stop by!"

"Sure thing, buddy -- wait, what?" She'd already lost Wander in the maze so looked to the townsfolk, who simply stared, heads tilted a little, a quiet rustle like dry leaves skittering coming from them. She'd be getting no explanations there, so with a sigh set out to find Wander herself.

Wander wasn't sure how to find a lantern tree, especially not with everything so closed-in now. A lot of the trees above had lanterns strung along them, but those didn't seem to be what the cornhusk people had been talking about. He was sure he'd circled the (oddly enormous for how few people there were) festival at least twice. This heat was even getting to him, or the cider was making him feel a little woozy, or something. He needed some fresh air.

Wander ducked between the heavy, red curtains.

The sudden silence and darkness brought him up sharp. It was like he'd stepped into another world. Instead of warm colors and warm smells, it was cold and black with only a diffusion of light from the festival providing any sort of illumination. It even felt different, in a way that spiked a panic Wander hadn't felt for years -- the sense of being lost.

But the curtain was right behind him, and Sylvia was just beyond that. He reached back, just to be sure.

Up ahead, there was a collection of lights high up in a tree. Wander's inexplicable dread gave way to excitement.

There were so many people Wander hoped to catch up with. Most people he knew were long dead, though he'd always left before that came about. Then he'd change his name and never mention them to anyone, but Wander never really moved on from them. It was... it was just hard, accepting that people died. He'd have to, though, for Sylvia. He wanted to stay with her for the rest of her life.

He stumbled into a clearing lit by the burning faces of jack-o-lanterns strung up on barren, burnt-out limbs. This had to be the lantern tree!

Wander's eyes widened and his hands flew up to his mouth in horror. These weren't the dead he'd been expecting.


	2. Hot Cocoa

"That's a darn fine cup of cocoa," Tumbleweed said as he set the mug down with a satisfactory clink. "Just the thing to ward off that chill comin' in." He shivered as though said chill was still caught up in his fur as the waitress smiled and poured another cup. He wrapped his fingers around the warm mug.

"We've also got the best blorpberry pie this side of the Vorpal Megastructure," she said, leaning on the counter. A mass of dark, starry hair fluffed out from under her little blue hat, and she had a nametag pinned to her equally blue uniform that read Jota. The rest of the diner was empty, leaving Tumbleweed as her sole customer.

"Oh gosh, really? I don't know where that is, but it sounds impressive, _and_ I love pie. Can I have a slice?"

"Sure thing, sugar." She got Tumbleweed his pie then settled back at the counter as he ate it, making all the appropriate appreciative sounds. "I take it you're not from around here?"

"No, ma'am. I just blew into town from the Cascade. Folks call me -- they used t' call me Tumbleweed..." He trailed off sadly as he smushed some crumbs under his fork and licked them off. It certainly wasn't the only name he'd left behind, but the ritual of it didn't do much to stop the sting. At least he had the cocoa and the best pie this side of something-something to soothe it away.

Jota topped him off and slid another plate of pie in front of him. "Don't worry, sugar, this ain't the kind of place to ask too many questions."

"Do y' mind answering them? Being new to the neighborhood 'n all, I got a few."

The person formerly known as Tumbleweed ran Jota through a gauntlet of questions until he felt he had a good lay of the galaxy. Or at least this corner of it. This was a real small-town sort of place, population 5,120 in the entire system where folks kept their own council and strange things lingered in the in-betweens. He figured this was a fine place to start, since he was pretty strange himself.

"Thanks so much for your help!" he said, pushing away what would have to be the last plate of pie. There was already a stack of plates behind Jota, and he just couldn't eat another bite. "And the pie. It was delicious. Do y'all take Flarvian crystals?"

At Jota's nod, he rummaged around in his hat and slid a pile of them across the counter. That was most of all he had, as he wasn't big on that whole money thing, but he knew it was more than enough even with his many plates and refills. The rest was for the lovely company she'd been.

He turned around at the door and tipped his hat before disappearing out into the reddish light that poured off of an angry old star. He stretched his fingers up to the sun, then set off for the orbble station he'd been told was set up a few planets along. He only had one orbble to his name, so he'd have to play it careful.

* * *

He hit the ground rolling, then running and screaming, as meteors sparkled behind him and some came whistling down through the thin atmosphere to crash into the ground with loud, low booms. A cave loomed up ahead, its maw black and foreboding in the bleeding sunlight, but foreboding was better than perforated, which was what he was about to be if he stayed out in this rogue shower much longer.

He dove into the darkness. The sunlight fizzled into a morbid gloom just inside the cave. He sat against the wall and pulled his hat from his head.

"Aw, I'm sorry, buddy," he told it as he fingered the half-inch hole that had been shot right through the hat'd green fabric. That could have easily been his skull. "Didn't even see that storm out there. And now it looks like we're stuck 'til it passes. I doubt any of them 5,120 people are here t' help, even."

After a bit of searching just to be sure they were alone and finding only inky blackness, he settled in to darn the hat as the sun sank lower on a horizon full of silhouetted stone spires. The sky grew darker but for streaks of meteors dancing past. It wasn't a comfy place he'd found himself in, but even if he had any orbble juice left, he'd be grounded for a while.

He crawled into the hat and closed his eyes, trying to find some comfort in sleep. What this place lacked, he could easily dream up.

* * *

He woke up disoriented as a compass during a magnetic storm. Something -- something was whispering.

"Hello?" he called out, trying to get out of the hat. It refused to let him go, though, and he had to really struggle to free himself as the whispering continued like he hadn't even spoken. "Don't worry," he told the hat once he was out and plopped it onto his head. "I won't leave ya. Just gotta check out who's here." The hat tightened around his head, and he pet it comfortingly.

He couldn't deny he was a little spooked, too, though, as the only possible places that voice (those voices? it seemed to fluctuate even as he listened) could be coming from was either the weird hell-red twilight outside or the viscous tar that pooled further into the cave. As he could still hear the impact of meteorites, he doubted anyone was out there.

Turning his attention to the cave, he tried again. "Howdy! Anyone back there? Folks call me, well, nothing at the moment."

A cold wind gusted from the cave and the whispering grew momentarily louder, only to recede again like a wave on the shore, beckoning him deeper. He shivered and tugged the hat down tighter around his head. What he'd give for some hot cocoa and a nice smile, now. Maybe someone in there had at least one of those.


	3. Monster Monday: Wander

Wander just wasn't there. Sylvia had been up and down the festival halls repeatedly, and while they were big and he was small, it wasn't _that_ big and he wasn't _that_ small.

"Wander!" she called above the murmur of the cornhusk people. The longer she couldn't find him, the closer they slid back to unnerving. They were watching her, faces sketched into perpetual, knowing smirks and eyes a little lopsided. Like they'd been drawn by a child. A morbid one. Sylvia shuddered.

A noise that almost sounded like her name rose over their rustling. It was muffled as though it came from beyond the festival's curtains. Wander just couldn't stick to the beaten path, but she was relieved to at least have a direction now.

Sylvia shoved through the curtains, ready to pound any wildlife that decided to try to snack on Wander or rescue him from whatever trouble he'd gotten himself into. "Buddy!" she yelled again, then followed his answering call.

When she passed a particularly gnarled, mean-looking tree three times Sylvia realized she was lost. And Wander was still calling for her, but he never seemed to be in the same place. She punched the tree right in its stupid trunk that looked like a stupid face and decided to blame these stupid woods for being so twisty and tangled.

The instant she found Wander, she'd him out of them. Then they were never going into any scary forest ever again. Maybe even not-so-scary ones, just to be sure.

* * *

After his initial fright, Wander felt bad for the poor ghouls strung up in the tree. And he felt bad for being so afraid of them (even if he still was, a little). They just looked so ghastly with their cut-out faces dripping slime and contorted-vine bodies, especially the ones he'd rather forget. But there were also others still near and dear to his heart despite that he'd buried them and moved on. Tumbleweed. Sketchbook. QT and River Run and Sunflower and a dozen, dozen others all smiling down at him.

"Hey, fellas," he said, tilting his hat at the collection. "Ladies 'n' sundry. Sorry 'bout that. Y'all just caught me _real_ off guard."

Several dangled low enough to brush his hat as he walked beneath them, while more grew so high he couldn't quite make them out. Wander climbed up the tree and reached out to touch those he could, as though to prove to himself they were really there.

"How'd y'all get here?" he mused as he felt around Dolly's grinning mouth. Wander's fingers came back coated in a glowing, stringy goop that he wiped down the front of his body. "Nobody knows 'bout you but me."

He squinted out into the forest, trying to see if any other lantern trees were visible from this height, but only saw the faint lines of the festival and a blue shape moving between the trees.

"Sylvi--" He cut himself off. Did he really want her seeing this? Seeing everyone he had been? Most people never found out, and why should they? It didn't matter who he was one, two, ten galaxies back. It just mattered who he was now, which was Wander.

But what if she found out? Wander knew Jeff was around, another long-lived soul like himself (though not nearly so long-lived as Wander), and they could get to talking then he'd have to explain when he wasn't prepared. Here, he could introduce her properly, on his terms.

Wander took a deep, steadying breath, then yelled for her again.

\---

Okay, _that_ was Wander she'd heard, loud and clear and to the left. Sylvia thought he'd yelled earlier, but it had cut off before she could figure out where it had come from. That had been a terrifying moment, hearing his cry chopped short like that.

"I'm coming, buddy!"

Sylvia plowed through low-hanging branches and twisting roots, right into a clearing.

"Sylvia!" Wander chirped from a tree. It took her a moment to find him among a necktie party of pumpkin doppelgangers, but there he was, perched on one of the branches just higher than her head. "Hi! I want ya t' meet some people."

She approached warily, trying to find these people and only seeing the weird scarecrow things. Oh. "Who are these guys? _What_ are they?"

Wander swung his legs back and forth, all nervous energy with nowhere to go. "They're me!"

"You feeling okay, Wander?"

"Sure am, Syl. These are -- well, we'll start here." He climbed along the branches, Sylvia trailing underneath, until he came to one with a mushroom hat. "This guy's Tumbleweed."

"Jeff's friend? He looks like you."

"He _is_ me. Back in that galaxy, I was called Tumbleweed. In the one before that, I was Sketchbook. Before that, QT." He pointed at different ones as he spoke. "I'm kinda whatever people make of me. Here I guess I'm a pumpkin." He giggled.

Sylvia sat down heavily. She needed a moment to process what he was trying to say in his weird, Wander-y way. Wander draped himself along a branch like a cat to wait it out.

Tumbleweed made sense from what Jeff had said. That she could handle. But if each of these was an old galaxy, an old name... There must be a hundred in the tree, at least! Her gaze found Wander's, and he smiled down at her, a smile echoed across the creepy fruit of the tree, or whatever those things were.

He wasn't one of them. He was Wander. But... so were they? If this was his lantern tree he'd been on about, these were the souls of the dead. Wander wasn't dead, and he wasn't some freaky pumpkin-faced monster, but here they were and here he was. The only way to really make sense of this was to ask. But where to even start?

Sylvia scanned the tree carefully, examining each fruit.

"Who's that one?" she asked, pointing at one that stood out in particular. While it had the mushroom hat like several others, instead of likewise sharing their smile, it had a grisly frown carved into its darkened face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some names that didn't make it: hellwalker, sweetT, and the god that walks between the voids


	4. Favorite Candy

It got colder the further he went, hand on the wall as he inched his way across debris that loomed from the darkness. In a moment of inspiration, he reached up into his hat and came out again with an electric lantern.

He gave a quick thanks, because even if it was still a little sullen about his choice to go deeper, at least his hat wasn't going to leave him in the dark.

The whispering hadn't revealed itself and seemed to retreat as he moved further into the cave, leaving him in relative quiet.

"Maybe I shoulda stayed as Tumbleweed," he said. Partially to fill the silence, and partially to get it off his mind. "Maybe Jeff wasn't ready for me to leave. Not t' say he wasn't doin' a good job fixin' things up -- guy took to helpin' like a fish takes to water. He didn't need me anymore, and like he said, there are plenty of other people needin' my help. An' I go... I go where I'm needed." How a cold, dark cave on a barren little planetoid in the middle of a meteor shower qualified as a place he was needed eluded him, though. "Even though we said our goodbyes, maybe --"

He stumbled, everything suddenly blurry, and caught himself on a wall. Another step. He sank down. Tears stung his eyes. Jeff might not have needed him anymore, but he'd needed Jeff.

Some nice folks in a town like the one he'd left had called him Tumbleweed, but they'd all had their own lives. Same in the next system over. And the next. Most of Tumbleweed's life had been lived on the kindness of others, but ultimately alone.

Except for Major Threat, a face plastered on planets across the galaxy. Tumbleweed saw him wherever the solar winds blew him. It was like having a friend he'd never met. So of course, Tumbleweed wanted to meet him. One thing led to another and suddenly he wasn't alone, but even Jeff had a life outside of Tumbleweed. Reparations to make. A galaxy to heal. Far too soon, it was back to just him and his hat without even a name to call his own. He felt exposed and isolated without a name, but that was one of those things you couldn't force. It'd happen when it happened.

Something fell on his head. He pulled it out from his hat and squinted at it in the weak glow of the lantern. As though to remind him the hat did, in fact, exist and was always there for him, it'd given him a bag of honey chips.

"Aw, thank you."

He pulled the bag open and tossed a few of the chips into his mouth. Sweet, salty, and reminiscent of the buzzing hives his ma tended back home. He hadn't had these in years. Longer even than he'd known the hat, but it was magic like that. He was lucky to have it. Feeling a little better with the fond memories and crinkle of the bag adding some noise, he found his second wind.

If there was someone else here -- and he was sure there was, he felt it right down to his toes -- he could use the company, even if they didn't have any orbble juice. This was turning out to be a rough transition from Tumblweed to whoever he'd be in the future. He couldn't remember if they were always this bad, but it'd be nice to make a friend right about now.

"Y'know," he said thoughtfully while he ate and walked, "These walls look a little strange." He ran his fingers along the grooves in the one he'd been following. He'd assumed at first those had some natural cause, like ice advancing or the dissolving of a weaker mineral, but these were very straight. Then he came across wooden crossbeams and a metal box bolted to the wall.

"It's an old mine! Oh, wow. That's so neat. I wonder what they were minin'?"

As no answers was forthcoming from the stone around him, he opened the box. A receiver on a cord fell out. After giving the handle a good crank to get its little indicator light glowing, he stretched up closer to the microphone. "Hello-ooo? Anyone down here?"

He listened with one ear to the receiver, the other to the echoing darkness of the mine. Cords ran from the box to crossbeam to crossbeam, alongside darkened and dead lamps strung up along the walls.

He accidentally threw the receiver when it crackled to life and barely caught it before it swung into the wall. "Hello," a person said, voice bouncing inconsistently along the antique lines. "Anyone?"

"Hi! I'm here! Where are ya?"

"Here..."

He giggled. "That make sense. There does seem t' be only one direction. I'm gonna keep following the line, okay? I'll see you in a bit. Bye!"

"Bye... see you in a bite..."

* * *

He touched base at boxes as he went. While the other party wasn't much of a talker, it was great to hear a voice he could make out. That whispering earlier must have been them on the lines, reaching out for anyone. He imagined they were just as relieved as he was to get a reply.

It took him a bit to realize he was seeing farther and more clearly than his little lantern could account for. The bulbs along the path glowed such a weak, bile-yellow color as to be nearly invisible, but with enough of them they were generating some kind of light. The lights led him down a branching path, then another. He crumpled up his bag and returned it and the lantern to the hat.

"See? It ain't so bad down here. Got lights, got company down the enda this line." He licked the honey crumbs out of his fur. Things were looking up, even if he felt a little off. He'd not had a name back when last he'd eaten these, either, and he'd managed just fine.

He always did.


	5. Werewolf

Wander and Sylvia stared at the fruit, him from above and her from below. "I don't... I don't know who this is," he said finally.

"Could he be so old, you've forgotten?" That was going to take some getting used to. Wander being old. She thought of that tiny, scared part of him she'd held so carefully in her arms. Small, innocent, and child-like. And much, much older than he seemed. Older than her. Maybe older than anyone.

Wander shook his head. "No. I remember all the way back to... no, it's not that."

Sylvia bit her tongue on the questions that welled up at that omission as Wander pawed around the fruit for any indication as to who it might be.

He yelped and fell off the branch, right onto Sylvia's head. She caught him before he hit the ground. Wander's face was scrunched in pain, and he held his hand close to his chest.

"What happened?"

"It bit me!"

"The pumpkin bit you."

Wander shoved his hand into Sylvia's face, and sure enough, there were a few small gashes on his fingers. It looked more like he'd scratched himself than he'd been bitten, but Sylvia didn't tell Wander that. He got weird around things like this, she'd begun to notice. A little... superstitious.

"Can we ask him? You're supposed to be able to talk to these guys, right?"

Wander perked up at the idea. "You're right. I've just been crawlin' all over 'em without even a by-your-leave." He stretched up. When it became apparent he was still too short, Sylvia lifted him higher. "Howdy do, stranger! Folks call me Wander. What'd they call you?"

His smile flickered at the ensuing silence. "Not much of a talker, huh? Well, maybe you're just shy. Not that I can recall ever bein' _shy_. This here's Sylvia. She's my best buddy in the whole universe! You don't gotta be shy 'round either of us. I'm you, after all, and Syl's being a real good sport about this whole thing."

Wander fell silent again, eyes scanning the carved face for any sign of acknowledgement.

"I don't think he's got anything to say," Sylvia said finally, pulling Wander back down.

He wasn't pleased by that but didn't push it either. "I'm sorry, Syl. I guess this was kinda a bust."

"I don't know," Sylvia said dryly. "You really gonna brush off an entire tree of creepy, you-specific ghosts as a bust? Just some cosmic coincidence?"

"I get a lot of coincidences around me. It's kinda my thing." He said it flippantly but was eying the silent, unhappy fruit, brows furrowed. There was something about it, just on the edge of his memory.

It wasn't coming, whatever it was. Wander shook his head of the sensation and looked around. "....Sylvia?" She'd just been right there, holding him, but now she wasn't.

His hand hurt, and he clenched his fist to put some pressure on the injuries. He should be afraid, he knew. She was _gone_. Vanished into the air like so much smoke. But he couldn't muster the terror or even some care. It was like he was far removed from this forest, his body, and his life. No, this wasn't _his_.

He turned around and walked deeper into the forest, past the lantern tree from which whispers rose as the wind blew across cut-out mouths and eye-holes. There were words in those whispers, beckoning him back to the safety and light of the tree, but the light wasn't right there. The air wasn't right. The thing on his head wasn't right, and he knocked it off.

He wanted to crawl out of his skin, peel it off layer by layer until it stopped feeling so small and confining and wrong.

* * *

Sylvia looked over her shoulder at Wander. He was a little ball of brightness in all the gloomy dark, but he was so little compared to the encroaching trees. She waved, and he waved back, and she tried to ignore the sense of foreboding. She hadn't liked how he'd been staring at that frowning one, though, and regretted pointing it out. Wander didn't frown like that, and it looked like none of his other selves did either, so it sat poorly with both of them.

But he'd assured her he'd be fine -- though something warm and sweet wouldn't be amiss if they were gonna talk all night about those ghouls. Maybe even with them, if he could get them to talk. Sylvia did need a moment to process this before she had to deal with actually speaking with them (as she had no doubt Wander'd get them chatting away like her Nan on bridge night). She didn't want to leave Wander with them too long, though.

Sylvia ducked back into the festival corridors and right into the other creepy, silent company of the night. She wished she understood the cornhusk people's language, because she had some questions about this lantern tree of theirs, but the only thing they had in common was currency. Sylvia searched through the festival for something warm and sweet, like Wander had suggested. Without really checking what she was getting, since most everything at the festival fell into the warm, sweet, or warm and sweet categories, Sylvia got together a collection of things and returned to the lantern tree.

"I got some food," she called out. When there was no reply, Sylvia scanned the branches, then circled the tree. "Wander! Where are you?"

She was brought up sharp by the ghouls on this far side of the tree. More frowns and dead eyes -- more than there were smiles. The hat sat at the edge of the clearing here, slumped sadly onto itself.

* * *

 _Wander_. He shook away the voice echoing through the trees. He wasn't that name. That wasn't even a name -- it was a compulsion. Something in him that needed to get out.

He scratched at his arms as he ran, shedding orange fur and droplets of glittering blood that looked black as space in the faint moonlight.


	6. Maze

He had no clue how deep he'd gone, but the quiet of the mines had given way to a nearly imperceptible purr of a generator. He was getting close now, which put a new spring in his already bouncy step. The purr grew to a growl then to a waterfall rumble.

He leapt into the generator room. "HI YA, BUDDY!" he yelled over the noise.

Nobody was there. Cobwebs and dust coated every knocked over and abandoned thing -- chairs, log books, kerosene lamps whose fuel had long ago evaporated. A crack up the wall that seemed to ooze nothingness. Nobody had been there for a long while.

The generator cut out.

He found himself in absolute silence. Complete darkness.

The whispering rushed back in like water, loud enough that it should be words -- screaming, deafening words -- but it was still wordless and oscillating and vibrated in his bones and teeth and lungs. His throat tightened around a scream as he was gripped by a strange, primal terror. Something bad lurked here.

He ran.

* * *

Fortunately, it was so dark, the tears blurring his vision didn't even matter. He stumbled, occasionally knocked into a support or a bit of debris left behind by the original crew. There was no particular direction he ran and he just had to hope whatever cosmic coincidences guided his life decided to guide him back out into the sunlight and meteor showers.

The whistling, screaming whispers began to coalesce into white foam names that dissolved just at his heels. Voices calling out to him -- to Tumbleweed, to QT, to Dolly to come back to them. To sounds he recognized as names, though ones unspeakable by him. To names that weren't his own. He wasn't going to get his name here in this hole that felt separate from all the rest of reality. That wasn't a name he wanted, that wasn't who he was -- whoever he was.

_Sunflower. River Run. Wander. Sketchbook. Lonely. Alone. Nameless. Nothing. Nobody. Nobody. Nobody._

He hit a wall and crumpled like paper. His fingers clawed at the rocks. He ignored the pain in his claw and the stinging, sharp smell of his blood. There were no other paths. The universe was done with him, had left him to his fate.

A presence pressed in at his back, and he sank down, chest heaving, heart fluttering, as he tried to catch his breath. He tasted whorls of some strange negative flavor in the air, like licking an electric line.

A meteorite landed in front of him, overwhelming the blackness with blinding white. He looked up as soon a he was able. A bluer shade of black hung in a circle far above.

He leapt for the support and clawed his way up to the brace, then a handhold higher. Higher.

It was a tight fit and more meteorites streaked threateningly across the small opening, but he'd rather be left to the universe's less than tender mercies than whatever was down below. The hat seemed to agree and was latched painfully tightly to his head.

He burst out of the hole and tumbled down the side of the hill. He'd never been happier to lay face down in cool sand as the meteorites thudded all around him.

When the sun rose just as blood red as before, he found a high spot and waved down a passing ship. It was heading the wrong way from where he'd been going, but he figured any way that got him away from here was fine. Even if it took him back to where he'd started.

As the ship left the atmosphere, he looked back at the tiny, dark mouth of the mine. Then he looked away, toward the pathway of stars that spiraled into the heart of the galaxy, and watched them twinkle until he disembarked.

* * *

He sat this time in a booth in the far corner, knees to his chest and face wedged into the place where wall met booth met a line of decorative molding that ran around the diner. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could melt into the patterns on the wood panelling.

He needed a new name. It wasn't safe, not having one, but he couldn't just pick a name himself. That wasn't how the ritual went. It had to _fit_.

A clink of china on Formica drew his attention. Jota had set a mug of cocoa, a plate of pie, and a small red first aid kit down in front of him. When he just frowned at them in confusion, she reached over and scratched his head like he was a cat. "You look like you could use some sugar, sugar. On the house."

"Thank you," he said, mustering up a watery smile for her before she went back to work.

He picked up the mug then paused. A smiley face had been carefully dotted onto its surface with marshmallows, though they were quickly melting into a blurry mess. He gave a slightly stronger smile at that. He wasn't alone, and he wasn't nobody or nothing, even if he didn't have a name.

A bit of kindness went a long way to warming away the icy tendrils threaded through him.

* * *

Planets and a hefty bounty later he still didn't have a name, but that didn't matter when he was having so much fun with his new friend. Killbot 85 wasn't much of a talker, but he had more than enough features to make up for that, and the prettiest, sleekest design. He tried telling him that, but didn't think the robot could hear him through the sack he'd been shoved into.

The darkness sat a little poorly with him as he was jostled and flung about, reminiscent of a cave in some bad dream months ago. He wriggled in complaint until the top opened, letting in a stream of light.

A Zbornak stood in front of him. He looked her over carefully before venturing a smile. She seemed a real nice sort.


	7. Phobia Friday

Sylvia wasn't just some kind soul traveling the stars. She'd been a bounty hunter, and she'd hunted him before. She could do it again.

Taking a deep breath, she reached into the hat and prayed it gave her something she could actually use.

A flashlight. Hah. Yes!

Sylvia flicked it on and let its white beam skim along the ground. A few strands of orange fur. Then more, caught on the bark of trees and in kicked up tracks between the leaves. This was more than just his normal shedding.

As she followed, she began to find spatters of dark blue liquid that glittered in the light. She could hazard a guess as to what it was, though Sylvia had never seen Wander bleed. What else could it be?

"Oh, buddy, what happened to you?" The hat flopped over in commiseration, and they set off again after Wander, faster this time. Horrible as it was, the blood was much easier to spot than his fur. She hated that that was even a consideration.

"I'll find you, Wander! Don't you worry!"

* * *

_Wander. Wanderwanderwander._ He'd heard it before in a cave on a planet bathed in crimson sunlight and meteor showers. He'd run away, then, too. Or had he been on a watery world where everything glowed a diffused green and words like wander, like tumbleweed, like nothing and nobody bubbled up from the depths and invited him in. Or the space between places, where galaxies glowed so far away they looked like single stars, where he heard words in waves of radiation that had been born alongside the universe. Or the dark of sleep when he didn't dream but sank down, down, down.

A sharp pain in his leg brought him back to his body, and he toppled down into a small gully. He stared up at the sky, unable to move. Stars twinkled above him. Something moved behind the stars.

A name came to his lips, but he couldn't find the breath to speak it.

"Wander!" a voice called, distant but clear.

 _Sylvia._ Oh, grop, he was so scared. What if she gave up? What if she left, because he wasn't what she thought he was? _He_ wasn't sure what he was, anymore. Those places felt like memories he'd never lived as any of his other selves. But he remembered them and the darkness between the stars and in the bowels of planets where nothing lived and nobody was meant to go.

_Sylvia, help._

As though hearing his cry, a beam of light shown down on him, then Sylvia slid down the leafy incline. "Wander!" she said in relief, dropping the flashlight to take him up in her arms.

He was so small without his hat. Smaller still as his little body curled in on itself as though to hide the damage. Scratches littered his arms and torso, oozing strange, starry blood across his fur. He was completely silent. She curled her neck around him and placed her head along the length of his body. "It's okay, Wander. You're safe now."

He went suddenly limp in her arms, and if she hadn't been pressed up against his body, she'd have thought he died. But Sylvia felt the beating of his heart, the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He'd blacked out.

She had no flarping clue what was going on, but now wasn't the time to figure it out. Sylvia tucked Wander into his hat and settled him more comfortably in her arms to take him back to the festival. If those freaky little people had anything to do with this, she was going to make them pay -- once Wander was tended to.

The cornhusk people flung themselves into a frenzy of activity when they saw the state of Wander, though, so Sylvia refrained from judging them for whatever had happened out there. They didn't seem to know themselves but were willing to help.  
\-----  
Wander woke up nestled between pumpkins and hay and tucked safely into his hat. He blinked blearily at a grey sky between autumn leaves. Something smelled yummy, like baked apples and pumpkin bread. Everything hurt.

He struggled into a sitting position and several cornhusk children tumbled off of him.

"Hey, Wander."

"Sylvia!" Wander tried to jump up to greet her, but she caught him with her tail and gently pushed him back down among the pumpkins. She handed him a plate, and he took it with only a slight wince as she sat down beside him. The cart he'd been placed in groaned at the extra weight. "What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"Well, let's see...." As he ate, he told her what he remembered. His recollection was strong up until he hurt his hand. "Something had gotten into me."

"No kidding."

"No, I mean, like literally. There was something there, something big and old and _strange_. I think I've met it before."

"When you were one of those other guys?"

Wander shook his head. "When I wasn't anybody. I don't really remember those times, but they had to exist -- before I was Wander, but after I was Tumbleweed. Those sorta nameless moments."

"What's it matter if you have a name or not?"

"Names give things power. Do you think you'd be the same person if you were a Jane, not a Sylvia?"

Sylvia thought on this a moment, then shook her head. "I guess not."

They chatted as Wander ate, and some of the cornhusk people came by to check on him. They were very apologetic, but likewise had no explanation for what had happened. It had never happened before, but then again Wander had never been by before, either.

As they left the planet, Wander looked back at the forest. The lantern tree was dark, its fruit fallen and ghosts unspoken to. He thought about what that thing had said. Lonely. Alone. Nobody.

That was what awaited him as people died and galaxies went dark, until there was only an empty, silent universe and himself.

But he had years yet as Wander. He wasn't ready to leave.

There was something nameless out there waiting, and he'd be nameless again, some day. Maybe then....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it through this very strange, very experimental bit of story. I have no clue how it reads all together, but, hopefully, it made some sense and gave you some Halloween spookiness. Comments, critique, and feedback are loved, either here or on my writing blog ~~kittendispenser~~ [@storiesbybest](http://storiesbybest.tumblr.com).


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